Racing Savannah (18 page)

Vanessa and I burst out giggling as the students keep dancing and then Rory joins in, holding up a sign asking Vanessa if she wants to go to Homecoming.

“Yes!” she says, and they start kissing, and the flash mob keeps grinding away around us. Colton whistles and Kelsey cheers, looking happy. Jack gazes over at me and grins, and I can’t help but smile back.

“Woooo!” I yell, cupping my mouth, my voice ringing out through the corridor.

After school, Vanessa gives me a lift home from school, and we totally take over the Hillcrest common room to eat candy, read magazines, and gossip. Ethan—Jodi’s son—has a friend over, and they keep peeking around the corner at us. Preteen pervs.

Vanessa bites into a Twizzler and turns the page in her magazine. “I was thinking a dress like this one.” She points at a short blue wispy thing.

“I love that! For Homecoming?”

“Yeah.” She flips the page and points at a white dress. “You should get something like this.”

“I like it…”

“Are you going with Alex? Did you invite him yet?”

I shake my head. “I might…there’s a big race that day in New Orleans at Fair Grounds. Gael has been saying that Jack might enter Star…but I’m not even sure if I’ll get to ride him.”

Vanessa pats my hand. “Don’t give up, okay? You know you can ride—it was just muddy before that race and Jack wanted to keep you safe. He told me so himself.”

I nod slowly, feeling heat spread across my cheeks. I’m kind of embarrassed how bratty I acted that day. I must’ve been channeling Star.

“If you decide to go to Homecoming, you and Alex should ride with me and Rory,” Vanessa says, and we dive into a discussion about the guys, talking about how far we’ve gone with them. “I only slept with Rory that one time after his brother’s wedding. We want to take things slower, you know?”

“I get that.”

“Have you done anything with Alex yet?”

“We’ve kissed…” The big difference between our situations is that I can tell how much she loves Rory already, and I haven’t felt that way about Alex yet. Maybe it just takes time?

Vanessa talks about how she and Rory were fooling around in his truck in the Whitfields’ garage, and his father caught them and made Rory go clean the manure collector again. “I think Rory thought it was worth it though.” She laughs, and Ethan and his friend gasp from the hallway.

“Get out of here, you little perverts!” I yell, throwing a couch pillow at the boys. Vanessa and I collapse onto the floor in a fit of giggles.

“You silly girls.” We peek up to find Cindy smiling down at us, one hand on her stomach. “Savannah, do you want to come out to eat with me and your dad? He got a bonus for some races and wants to treat us.”

I glance at Vanessa. “We’re hanging out right now.”

“Vanessa can come too if she wants.”

Vanessa nods, and I shrug okay. We’ve never had the money to invite a friend of mine out to eat. I’m really proud of my father—for taking a risk and moving us to Cedar Hill and trying to do something good for his family.

The next thing I know, we’re at the Roadhouse, one of the best restaurants in Franklin. Old street signs and highway markers cover the wooden walls and rock music blares. People love coming here because you get to eat peanuts and throw shells on the floor. And don’t even get me started on how good those breadbaskets smell.

We’re seated at a table, and a girl from school is our server. I’ve never talked to Annie Winters before, but she seems nice and smiles as she takes our drink order. Vanessa leans over and whispers that she and Kelsey used to hang out with Annie freshman year, but after Annie started dating this guy, they grew apart and Kelsey is still upset about it. Still, Vanessa is friendly enough with her. Annie brings us a free appetizer of cheese fries and an extra breadbasket.

“Shortcake, if you don’t stop eating that bread, you’re gonna gain too much weight to be a jockey,” Dad says with a grin, and I smile through a mouthful, glad he still thinks I’ve got what it takes to race.

Vanessa keeps asking Cindy a bazillion questions about the baby. “Like, do you know what the baby is thinking?”

“I think I know when she’s mad—she kicks up a storm. She’s doing it right now.”

I reach over and touch her stomach. The baby’s feet feel like drumbeats. “Porsche is gonna be a drummer.”

Cindy gives me a wry smile. “We are not naming the baby after a car.”

• • •

When Rory drops me off at Cedar Hill after school the next day, I find a Facebook message from Alex asking me to call him. Sometimes it really sucks not having a cell.

I use the house cordless to call him and he picks up on the second ring. “Hey, you,” I say, unable to keep the smile off my face.

“Hey.” I can hear his grin through the phone.

“What are you doing?” I lie down on the couch and point my toes toward the ceiling, excited that I’m talking to a cute boy on the phone. The gardener, Mr. Wallace, looks up from his newspaper and shakes his head at me.

“I wanted to talk to you about something…We’ve been having fun the past few weeks, right?”

“Yeah.”

I hear him take a deep breath. I slowly lower my legs to the couch.

“My ex and I…well, we dated since high school up until a couple of months ago, and I wanted to let you know that we still talk—”

“And?” I say, suddenly out of breath.

“I’m not saying she and I are serious again or anything.”

“What?” I’m so confused. It’s not like Alex and I are exclusive, but we did make out.

“It’s not fair to you if I’m starting to talk to my ex again.”

“Yeah, it’s not…” I say with a wobbly voice. “Do you love her?”

“I’ll always love her…but just because you love somebody doesn’t mean you should be with them. It’s harder than that.”

It
sure
is.

“I want to keep spending time with you,” Alex says.

“So you’re telling me that we can keep seeing each other, but you might work things out with your ex?”

“Yeah, kinda,” he says quietly. “God, that makes me sound like a complete asshole.”

“Yeah, kinda.” Believe it or not, hearing that he loves someone brings a small smile to my face. I don’t want to lose him, because I’ve enjoyed kissing him and hanging out, but I want to be with a guy who’s 100 percent there. I want a guy who’s all mine. And considering how often I think of Jack, I never would have been 100 percent there for Alex. And that’s just not right.

“It might be good if you focus on her, all right?”

Our conversation doesn’t last much longer—it’s just Alex apologizing over and over, and I tell him it’s okay, even though I don’t really feel okay.

We hang up and I set the cordless back in the docking station. Well. That sucks. I stick my thumbs in my eyes to keep the tears at bay. I want someone I can laugh, cuddle, and talk with anytime I want, someone who truly wants me. Loves me.

At least I’ve got other things to do this afternoon. After blowing my nose, I go to my room, put on my nicest outfit—black pants and a white shirt that belonged to Mom—and charge up to the manor house. I know I’m not allowed inside unless I’m working, but I’m not gonna sit around waiting for Mr. Goodwin to cross my path.

I sneak in the back kitchen door and head through the dining room to the main staircase that leads up to the suite of offices. I spot Paula spraying Windex on a mirror. I sneak down a different hallway and go up another set of stairs.

When I reach Mr. Goodwin’s assistant’s desk, she sets down her letter opener and the envelope she’s holding. “Can I help you?”

“I’d like to make an appointment,” I say, holding my chin high.

Jack appears in the doorway of his office. “Are you here to see me?” he asks, looking hopeful.

I summon my strongest voice. “No. I need to discuss something with your father.”

“Can I help you with it instead?” Jack asks, sticking his thumbs in his belt loops. “Dad’s a busy guy.”

I shake my head. “Only your dad.”

“Janet, tell my father Savannah needs to see him.”

The assistant presses the intercom button and speaks into it. Then Jack goes and opens the double doors to Mr. Goodwin’s office, jerking his head, indicating I should walk on in.

I bite the inside of my cheek as I pass by Jack. The door clicks shut behind me and I find myself in a room lit with floor-to-ceiling windows and softened with sheer, wispy curtains. The sofas and chairs are covered with a creamy fabric and fancy rugs cover the hardwood floor. Unlike Jack’s office, there are no TVs or computers. Am I in an Elven palace from
The
Lord
of
the
Rings
or something?

Mr. Goodwin glances up with a brief smile. “What can I do for you?”

He doesn’t invite me to sit, so I stand in front of his desk where he’s sorting through yellow message slips and writing in a leather-bound journal.

“Sir, I know I asked you to keep the money I make exercising your horses and racing in case Cindy and my dad need it, but I’d like to change that arrangement.”

That gets his attention. He sets his pen down, crosses his hands, and looks up at me. “Oh? How do you wish to change it?”

“I want to keep the money I make from now on for myself.”

A tiny smile flits across his face. “What are your plans for the money? If you don’t mind me asking.”

I look out the window, at the rows of huge barns and the racetrack and all the workers, amazed that one person owns all this. Mr. Goodwin didn’t build it, but his family did.

And now I want to start building something for me. For my family. For the future.

“I want to use it for college applications,” I say. “And to take the ACT.”

Mr. Goodwin nods and smiles. “Good. I’ll make sure you start getting regular paychecks.”

“Thank you, sir. Hope you have a nice day.” I turn to leave but Mr. Goodwin calls my name. I swivel around to face him.

“Savannah, I didn’t take any of the money you’ve made so far.”

“What?” I say, leaning forward.

“I saved it all.” He pushes an intercom button and asks his assistant to send Mr. Blakely in. “You’ve worked hard for that money and you need to spend it on you. A man should settle his own debts.”

A minute later, a tall man dressed in a suit appears in the office.

“This is Mr. Blakely, one of my stall managers,” he says. “Michael, how much money has Savannah made so far? Including the race where she placed third?”

The man opens a black portfolio and shuffles through the papers, dragging his finger down a ledger. “About $1,750.”

I sit down on the couch, unable to stand. I cover my face. I’ve never seen that much money in my whole life.

“Before you send out your college applications,” Mr. Goodwin says, “make sure you have my assistant and Jack look over them, understand?”

I taste salty tears at the back of my throat. “I will.”

“Blakely,” Mr. Goodwin says. “Give us a minute.” After the man leaves, Mr. Goodwin raps his pen on his desk. “Savannah, your father came to see me the other day. He wasn’t aware you’d asked to help with Cindy’s paychecks.”

I nod.

“Your father wanted to make sure I hadn’t done what you asked…and he asked me for help with college advice.”

My head pops up. “He did?”

“I ordered him some books and catalogs on student loans and scholarships to look at. We were going to meet about it next week.”

“You were?” I exclaim. Dad didn’t tell me anything. Maybe he didn’t want me to get my hopes up? “But why?” Mr. Cates’s uncaring expression flashes in my mind. “Why do you care if I go to college? Wouldn’t it be better for you if I just stay here and exercise horses and wax the floors or whatever?”

Mr. Goodwin smiles and slips his pen behind his ear. “When I was about your age, my father taught me something. He said that my staff is everything.

“I don’t do any of the important work like training a yearling. Keeping a mare calm as she delivers a foal. Making sure the horses are clean. I don’t even feed my own kids. Jodi cooks them healthy meals. My staff takes care of me and my family.”

I nod slowly.

“I’ve always tried to take good care of my staff. I’m going to make sure Cindy has some time off before and after the baby comes. I won’t let anything happen to your family, understand? You all have been good to us. My staff is too important.”

I wipe the corner of my eye, smiling as I nod.

The intercom buzzes. “Mr. Goodwin, your four p.m. appointment is here,” the assistant says.

“Thank you, sir,” I say. He gives me a friendly nod and goes back to studying his notebook.

I open the heavy wooden doors to let myself out. “Oh, and, sir?” I say loud enough for both Jack and his father to hear me. “I want to race Star in the Dixiana Derby at Paradise Park.”

“We’ll see.”

“Yes, sir,” I reply in a low voice, stepping out of his office and shutting the doors behind me. I’m proud of myself for trying at least.

Jack gives me a quizzical look when I march past him. “What’s going on?”

“I was just getting something I want,” I say with a smile, and race down the stairs, feeling Jack’s eyes on my back.

I head for the stables—I want to take Star out for a while. And hopefully Dad is in Greenbriar and can help me saddle him up.

The Winchesters’ racetrack, Paradise Park, is located between Lexington and Louisville on the greenest patch of land you’ve ever seen. Any time now, I’m expecting the Lucky Charms leprechaun to pop up and tell me I’m in Ireland or something. It’s times like this when I don’t believe karma is real; it’s unfair that douches like the Winchesters get to own such beautiful land.

As Dad pulls the truck into the parking lot beside the barns, I feel a slight pang of guilt for Mr. Goodwin because he’ll never own this beautiful place if he doesn’t pony up at least another million bucks. At the same time, I’m pissed because Jack hasn’t said a thing about me riding Star in today’s race, even though I brought my silks to wear. Is he waiting to make sure we have good weather before getting my hopes up?

Dad works with Minerva, Echoes of Summer, and Lucky Strikes while Rory and I are having a hell of a time with Star. He won’t stop rolling on the floor, scattering his hay bed, and snorting. He hops to his feet and jogs around his stall, making grunting noises. He is one unhappy horse.

“Get out of here,” I finally tell Rory, and my friend eagerly leaves the stall, latching it behind him. Mr. Goodwin and Jack need to hire more girls, I swear.

I take a deep breath through my nose and step forward, getting in Star’s face.

“Stop it, boy,” I say in a strong voice. “You’re such a big baby. You just want attention, right?” The horse stops snorting and moving around like he’s on drugs. His ears twitch and he stomps the ground with his front right hoof.

I stroke his face, inhaling his muskiness. “Ror?” I call out. “Would you bring Echoes of Summer in here?”

A minute later, Echoes of Summer has joined me and Star, and the mare calms him down even more. I stay with the horses, feeding them grain and brushing their hair, singing to Star to keep him calm.

Before the race, Jack and his father appear, along with Gael. Jack is wearing an elegant suit and tie, and his hair is slicked with gel.

“Get him ready to go, Whitfield,” Mr. Goodwin says. Did he forget Star hates boys or something? The minute Rory comes in the stall, Star gets agitated again. He slaps his head from side to side.

“Get out,” I say to Rory, putting up a hand. “I’ll get him ready. He’s comfortable with me,” I say to Mr. Goodwin. I want to do right by the horse. “I’ll walk him to the paddock.”

“Wait,” Jack says, standing up straight. He’s nearly taller than his father. “I want Savannah to ride him.”

“I think it’s best if you race Townsend,” Mr. Goodwin says. “He’s got more experience on this track and the purse is half a mil. You need to make the money back for the stud fee and I don’t want to see your reputation go to hell. I don’t think you can afford to lose.”

“I know I can’t,” Jack says. “That’s why Savannah’s gonna race Star. I’ll go tell the officials myself.”

“I’ll come with you,” Gael says.

Mr. Goodwin grabs Jack by the shoulder and stares him down. “Son—”

“I want your support on this, Dad,” Jack interrupts. “I’ve supported you in everything. I used Townsend as a jockey in the last race. I came on to Abby Winchester when I didn’t have any feelings for her. And because of you, I lost something important to me.” He finds my eyes.

Mr. Goodwin slaps his notebook against his palm and glances around the park, looking partially pissed but mostly wistful. He blows out air, sighing.

“I’m the owner of Cedar Hill and it’s my decision,” Jack says, and a chill shoots through me. “Go big or go home.”

“You’d better go get dressed,” Mr. Goodwin says to me. “Nobody’s riding a Cedar Hill horse unless they’re wearing the family silks.”

“Thank you!” I say, grinning.

I haul ass to the truck to change clothes, to get ready for the biggest race of my life. I reach into the cab for my backpack that contains the silks I’ll wear during the race. Glancing around at the other trailers, I make sure I’m alone and shielded by the truck door before pulling my T-shirt off over my head. I’m about to slip my Slytherin Cedar Hill shirt over my bra when a voice behind me says, “Hey.”

I cover my breasts and duck behind the door.

Marcus Winchester slowly walks up, and even though he can clearly see I’m changing, he doesn’t vamoose. He stares at me like he did that night in the Goodwins’ dining room. What. A. Perv.

“Go away,” I say, trying to cover my breasts with the shirt. “I’m changing.”

He reeks of alcohol and it’s not even noon. “You work for the Goodwins, right?” he asks.

“Yeah…?”

“Wouldn’t it be a shame if my dad raised the cost of our track even more? You know, because of you? Because you haven’t been respectful of me?”

I pause for several heartbeats. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with
you
? Servants
want
to sleep with me.”

Does he have a sick desire to dominate people or something?

“Get lost,” I say when he grabs my arm. My teeth are chattering as I scramble toward the next trailer. He latches on like a leech and I’m dragging him behind me.

“I tried to give you something special. You should be grateful,” Marcus blurts. I shove him in the gut and rush toward the barns. Seconds later, Marcus overtakes me.

“I’ll make sure the Goodwins can never buy our track and it’ll be your fault,” Marcus says, grabbing me from behind. “I’ll make sure you lose your job and can’t get hired anywhere else.”

Mr. Goodwin still wants to buy this place, but I believed him when he said he’ll take care of my family. Of me.

“I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do, you crazy asshole,” I say, stomping on his foot. Marcus groans and hops up and down.

Right then, Jack comes barreling up. He slams his right fist into Marcus’s jaw, smashing him to the ground. Marcus trips Jack, and Jack takes a punch to the chin. Then Jack leaps onto Marcus and smashes his knuckles into his nose three times. Jack pins him to the dirt.

“Jack, I already got him!” I say, like we’re hunting and Jack stole my kill.

Marcus wipes blood off his nose. “Fuck you, Goodwin.”

“Go ahead, Savannah,” Jack says, holding him down. “Do your worst.”

I kind of want to kick him where it counts, but I don’t care enough to waste any more time on this dickwad. I thrust out a hand and pull Jack up from the ground then hug him. He rubs his hands up and down my back.

Yeah, I stomped on Marcus’s foot and gave him a piece of my mind, but I can’t stop shuddering and gasping for breath.

“Shhh,” Jack whispers, gently rubbing the back of my neck. He takes the green shirt from my hand and helps me slip it over my head. I touch the bruise forming on his chin.

Marcus fumbles his way to his feet. “I’m going to tell my father.”

Just because he’s rich and powerful doesn’t mean he can do whatever he wants and get away with it.

“I’m calling the police to report you,” I say.

“Who’d believe your story over mine?” Marcus snorts.

“Me,” Jack says calmly.

“I hope you enjoy telling your family you lost Paradise Park for them.”

“Who gives a shit?” Jack says. “You tried to assault my jockey.”

“So what?” Marcus replies.

“So Savannah’s gonna call the cops, and I’ll make sure your mom and sister don’t get invited to the Governor’s Christmas Ball this year. You don’t want to disappoint your mother, do you?”

Marcus’s eyes balloon and he actually looks freaked out. I stare up at Jack through misty eyes and wrap my arms around his waist.

“Hell, if you ever come near my girlfriend again, I’ll kill you,” Jack adds, making my shoulders tense up. Wait. Did he say girlfriend?

“Now get the hell out of here,” Jack says, and as Marcus scrambles away, Jack turns to me and lifts my wrist to touch the bracelet he gave me.

“Girlfriend?” I whisper. “That’s pretty presumptuous of you.”

“Are you still dating Alex? Whitfield’s cousin?” I slowly shake my head and he gently kisses my wrist. “Did Marcus hurt you?”

I know my place, but I stood up for myself anyway and didn’t think about anything except for what’s right. And even though we come from completely different stock, Jack did the right thing too.

“I’m fine…actually, I’m great.”

• • •

Jack holds my hand the entire way back to the barn, and when we see our dads, I expect him to drop it. But he keeps holding on tight.

“Is this for real?” I mumble. “What you said about me being your girlfriend?”

“I’m serious,” he whispers, holding our hands up where anyone can see them. “I’ve never cared about anyone else like this.”

“And we’re exclusive?”

“Yup,” he says.

“But what about Paradise Park? Mr. Winchester’ll never sell it to your father now.”

He rubs his thumb across the back of my hand. “I’ll tell Dad there are other racetracks. And besides, Paradise Park has crappy plumbing.”

“Crappy plumbing.”

“That’s right.”

I grin and he grins back. As we walk up, Mr. Goodwin looks from his son to our hands and shakes his head.

“Savannah and I are going out now,” Jack announces to our fathers and Rory.

Rory drops the brush he is holding and his mouth falls open. He digs in his pocket, yanks out his cell, and starts texting. Such a gossip that boy is.

Dad rubs his eyes.

“What happened to your face?” Mr. Goodwin asks Jack.

“Marcus Winchester looks a lot worse, I promise.”

Mr. Goodwin looks freaked out for a second, but then he grins. “That’s my boy.”

“I’ll tell you what happened in private,” Jack says to his father, pulling me up next to him. “It’s time to get Star and Savannah ready for the race.”

Mr. Goodwin says, “Your mother will be angry with me for allowing you to date one of our staff. It won’t look right, and there could be issues if you don’t work out.”

“You sneak hot dogs behind Mom’s back all the time! I’m responsible for the farm, and I can make my own decisions.”

“A man stands by his decisions,” Mr. Goodwin says.

“Yes, sir, he does,” Jack replies.

“We’ll talk more about this later, understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Jack replies in a strong voice.

“I don’t agree with this any more than Jack’s father does,” Dad says to me slowly. “But I want you to be happy, whatever that means for you. I know how much you care about your family and want to do the right thing by us. And I want to do the right thing by you.” Dad wraps me in his arms, hugging me hard.

Jack faces our fathers. “After the race, can Savannah stay the night at our house in Kentucky with us?”

“I’d love to,” I say, and I catch Mr. Goodwin and Dad exchanging a freaked-out look.

“I want to cook you dinner,” Jack says to me, ignoring our gaping fathers. Dad wipes sweat off his forehead. “She thinks I can’t grill, but I can.” He squeezes my hand. “Wait…I’ll be back in a few. I’ve gotta do something. Whitfield—come help me.”

He sprints out of the barn with Rory at his ankles. Jesus Lord, where’s he going now?

“Jack!” Mr. Goodwin calls, following his son.

The other men clear out of the barn, leaving me to collect Star’s tack and get him in the zone for the race. I pat his nose and look him in the eye. We have a staring contest that goes on for at least a minute, but then a mare passing by our stall distracts him.

“I win!” I hug his neck. “I love you.”

He nips at my hair, saying he loves me too.

• • •

Jack meets up with me at the paddock after Shelby helped me get Star saddled up and ready to go.

“How you doing?” Jack whispers in my ear.

“Good,” I say. I don’t want to jinx myself by saying that I’ve never been on such a high, that I have a feeling Star and I are in good shape for today. “Thank you for this.”

“Thank
you
,” Jack replies, smiling at me before turning his focus back to his horse. He walks around Star one last time, inspecting him, before wishing me luck and pecking my cheek.

Dad mounts a pony and leads us out onto the track. He leans over and pats Star’s head as we begin to warm up. Star barely pays attention to the pony. He must know this race is important.

When we get to the starting gate, I take a deep breath and Dad pats my back. “I’m proud of you, and your mom would be too.”

I smile as Star enters the gate and the gates close behind me. I’m in the fourth position, the best place to be. For the first time ever, the horse doesn’t go crazy when we’re inside the gate.

“You got this, Star,” I say, breathing calmly.

The bell rings loud and clear. The gates bang open.

“And they’re off!” the announcer says, and everything goes silent except for the sound of hooves slamming the ground.

Star breaks well. I settle behind Dancing Delight and That’s My Boy. Everybody eases up around the first turn. I grab a good position on the rail. Dancing Delight leads the way to the backstretch. I’m two off the lead when the pack moves together on the far turn.

I own the rail and we pick up speed as we make our way past That’s My Boy.

I yell, “Move your ass, Star!”

That’s My Boy challenges us, making me settle back into third. At the home stretch, I’m two lengths off the lead. On the final furlong, I use the whip and yell Star’s name. I make up the distance. Overtake Dancing Delight on the final furlong. But he grabs it back.

My heart pounds and I’m biting down hard on my lip as we cross the finish line.

We lose by a length!

Second place. Damn.

As Star begins to relax, I pull my goggles off and set them on top of my helmet with a sigh. Is he ever gonna win one? I lean down and hug Star long and hard. We circle back around, and the only person I want to see must be swallowed up in that sea of reporters, because I can’t find him anywhere.

I ride up to the paddock. Reporters are all over me. Cameras are flashing. People are hollering. Second place with a half a mil purse is nothing to cry home about. Star just won $125K for Cedar Hill.

“Jack!” I peer through the crowd to find him wedging his way between people. He breaks free and darts up to slap Star’s side and rub his ears.

“Good boy,” Jack says, rubbing the horse’s muzzle and smiling up at me.